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The Tongva are the original Indigenous inhabitants of the Los Angeles Basin, sometimes referred to as the “First Angelenos.” Long before the city became synonymous with Hollywood, freeways, and luxury real estate, it was Tongva territory—home to villages, trade networks, and a deep cultural relationship with the land.
According to the spokesperson, the tribe appreciated moments when high-profile figures draw attention to the true history of the United States. However, they noted that Eilish had not contacted the tribe directly regarding her property or her remarks. The spokesperson added that, going forward, it would be important for public figures to explicitly reference the Tongva—not just speak in generalized terms about “stolen land.”
This distinction matters. For many Indigenous communities, broad acknowledgments risk flattening diverse histories into a single talking point. Naming a tribe, its territory, and its ongoing presence affirms that these communities are not symbols of the past, but living nations with contemporary concerns.
Yet critics argue that such statements can become performative if they are not paired with concrete action. This critique gained traction precisely because Eilish is not only a public figure but also a property owner in one of the most expensive housing markets in the world.
From this perspective, the question becomes uncomfortable but unavoidable: what does it mean to denounce “stolen land” while benefiting from land ownership within that same system?
Political Backlash and the Culture War Frame
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Florida Governor Ron DeSantis mocked the idea of “stolen land” rhetoric, suggesting that those who believe it should be willing to relinquish their property. Senator Mike Lee echoed this sentiment, arguing that public acknowledgments without material sacrifice lack sincerity.
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